


Overwatch: Coyote's Box

by Brokenhorn



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Chaptered, Coyote's Box, F/F, Gen, Multi, Multiple chapters, Overwatch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-06-17 09:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15458079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brokenhorn/pseuds/Brokenhorn
Summary: Overwatch reforms and the next generation of heroes answers the call, aiming to restore hope and save the world. Talon lurks in the shadows, moving pieces into place to bring forth a second Omnic Crisis. Unknowingly, both play a role in furthering the goals of a mysterious force that plunges the world into darkness.





	1. Recall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks have passed since the attack on Watchpoint Gibraltar by Talon and Winston's initiation of the Recall. As various independent city-states send their supplies and support to the new Overwatch, Angela Ziegler arrives with her medical staff and reunites with Winston.
> 
> Winston debriefs Dr. Ziegler on what led to the Recall and that others are on their way. Among them are Wilhelm Reinhardt, Brigitte Lindholm, and Lena Oxton; meanwhile, Torbjorn Lindholm and Genji Shimada were also contacted. Jesse McCree's exact whereabouts are unknown.

The scientist paced around the upper level of his lab, occasionally breaking the path by jumping onto the single tire swing to drop down to the bottom level before making his way back up the small set of stairs again. Rinse and repeat.

“Winston,” Athena chimed in. “You initiated the Recall, there is no turning back from this.”

“I know,” Winston answered, pausing in his tracks. “I’m just… thinking. There’s a lot to consider, Athena, and I knew that from the start.”

It had only been a few weeks since that night when the masked man in black came to try and steal the roster from the Overwatch archives. Winston had already scrubbed, isolated, and quarantined any traces of the leftover virus. He had removed the virus in time but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a trace left behind or that the mysterious infiltrators didn’t try to take anything else. Fortunately, the extra measures he had taken to sweep Athena’s files and his own computer systems thoroughly had proven fruitful and eliminated any trace.

Winston also almost tracked the virus to its source, to wherever it may have sent information but, alas, it was cut off before he could get a solid location. It was unnerving and even frightening that Overwatch still had enemies, someone that would go so far as to try and locate the former members and that’s what made the Recall so important. To bring everyone together and, maybe, Overwatch could save the world before it could fall apart any further.

“Winston,” Athena cut in again to interrupt his pacing and inner thoughts. “Doctor Ziegler has arrived, identification confirmed and-“

“Let her know I’m on my way,” the scientist interrupted the AI, excited to see a familiar face.

Angela Ziegler was the woman who had helped him adjust to living on Earth, helped him pursue his education, and was his inspiration for constructing Athena. His pace quickened as he left his lab and into the Watchpoint’s main road, the path that connected the base together along the tall cliffs of the Rock of Gibraltar.

Closer towards the Watchpoint’s center, there was a short tunnel that led down to Gibraltar City proper and it was through the security checkpoint and the tunnel that visitors had to pass, as well as the former civilian housing, to get into the Watchpoint itself. The civilian housing, a little ‘town’ that sat halfway up the slope of the mountain acted as a temporary base of operations for the new Overwatch staff of volunteers and returning members. At least until they finished cleaning up the base’s various facilities.

Winston could barely believe his eyes; Angela seemed as if she had barely aged since he last saw her. Aside from the occasional messages and odd picture or two back and forth during her time providing free medical aid in the Middle East, he hadn’t seen her at all in these eight years.

Angela stood with two of her doctors, while the rest of her medical team had already made themselves at home and started moving their medical equipment into the Watchpoint’s medical wing. A large door opened the way directly to the on-site hospital but there was also a smaller passage through Winston’s lab. The team consisted of a small group of doctors leading the operation and a large number of nurses, all of them followed Angela to the Watchpoint and believed in both her and her work.

Angela wore a lab coat over a blue shirt that was very much a medical uniform. On her right was a brunette woman that seemed younger than her, and on her left was a dark-skinned man with pale white hair. She turned her attention away from the clipboard being offered to her as Winston approached, “Winston!”

As Angela stepped forward to embrace her old friend, Winston returned the embrace. “Angela! It’s so good to see you again,” he said happily.

“I came as soon as I could,” the doctor said as she stepped back. “Oh! Winston,” she said as she gestured to the man that was with her. “This is my brother, Markus Schröeder. We grew up in the same orphanage together; you may remember that he was one of the medical staff in Blackwatch.”

Markus kept a straight posture, certainly seeming a touch more formal than Angela, he offered a small smile and a handshake, which Winston returned. “Nice to finally meet you, Winston.” He stood taller than Angela and almost wore a similar uniform with a darker undershirt. “It’s a shame we never got to meet, but since I’m here for Doctor Ziegler, I’m sure we’ll be working together a lot without Blackwatch around.”

Winston nodded, “Yes. Blackwatch was… It’s terrible what they did to all of you, abandoning the program, refusing to acknowledge your service and… essentially, declaring everyone in Blackwatch a criminal rather than the reconciliation that was originally promised upon recruitment. I’ve been seeking a way to resolve that, to clear your names.” He paused a moment, stopping himself before he ended up rambling about the details. “But, ah, yes. Nice to meet you, too, Markus. Please, make yourself at home, it looks like your associates already found their way to the medical wing.”

The man glanced over at the train of nurses and other doctors, while the second doctor with Angela quietly excused herself to assist with the unpacking. “Right,” Markus nodded, looking back to Winston and Angela. “You two, feel free to catch up,” he said. “I’ll be there if you need me.”

Markus turned his attention back to the rest of Angela’s medical staff and disappeared through the large door leading to the medical wing. Angela smiled, though a flicker of concern crossed her countenance for a moment, she cared deeply for her friends, “Ah… How have you been, Winston? You told me about the attack… What exactly happened? And the Recall, has anyone else come?”

“I’ll explain everything in my lab – I guess we can call this the first official debriefing,” Winston managed a soft chuckle and beckoned for Angela to follow. She did, walking alongside him as they walked down the main road that ended at his lab, the tinted windows overlooking one of the communication towers and a beautiful view of the cliffs.

Angela changed the topic, briefly, on their way over. “Markus noticed that your AI sounded like me, when it greeted us after we passed security,” she smirked at the scientist. “Was that intentional?”

“Ah, yes, well,” Winston paused. “Athena was a little project I put together, after we got those quantum computers back when, I decided to put together a logistics intelligence. I named her Athena and, well… In some ways, I modeled her after you.”

“That’s very flattering, Winston,” the doctor smiled. “I’m glad you had someone to keep you company after all this time.”

The scientist lead the way inside, quickly tidying up a few loose peanut butter jars that he had overlooked. Otherwise, the Lab looked better than it had been in recent months. It was a lot of work but Winston, with some encouragement from Athena, finally tidied up. “Athena isn’t the only one,” he explained. “Lena has also visited me a few times… But more about her, later.”

“What happened,” Winston said as he coughed to clear his throat. “Is that Talon attacked. There was this strange man that could transform and change into shadow and smoke, he came to hack into Athena’s systems and steal the Overwatch roster archives. I… should have wiped it clean years ago, that was my mistake.” The scientist was easy to read, in the privacy of his lab, he could finally relax and not have to worry about appearances around Angela. “I nearly didn’t stop the hack in time, everyone would have been in immediate danger… But I stopped it, isolated the virus and wiped it clean. And that’s when I initiated the Recall, I’m afraid that even if Talon didn’t succeed… They will still try to hunt everyone down.”

Angela nodded lightly as she listened, “I saw all those ships, are those ours? I recognized a few faces on my way in.”

“No, not ours,” Winston said, strolling over to the lab’s small kitchen and preparing a small pot of coffee for Angela. The machine hummed as the dark drink was poured into a plain, white porcelain mug. “When the word passed around, a few city-states around the world offered support. Almost every ship out there belongs to one of those city-states, the rest were given to us as gifts, along with supplies, hardware, and volunteer staff.” A small beep came and he offered to the doctor, delicately holding it in his larger hands as he offered it to her. “The League of Nations is holding a hearing, soon, to discuss Overwatch’s reactivation. Since they have been against a number of UN policies, as of late, I’m… hopeful that they’ll support us.”

“It’s a good start,” Angela chimed in, stepping over to the counter to pour some cream and sugar into the fresh cup of coffee. “Did anyone else get here before I did?”

“Not yet,” Winston said. “Lena is on her way, I gave her and her girlfriend tickets to come over here. At their own pace, Lena’s excited to come but I scheduled their tickets about two weeks from now… I don’t want to abruptly uproot them, I know that most everyone has new lives and…” He trailed off a little. A brief pause, “I don’t want to take anyone’s families away. For those that live in UN countries, I’ve arranged on-base residences and the base is so big that… Well, I figured we’d be able to employ anyone that needs work, plus, there’s also the city just a short drive from here. I’ve done everything I can to think of every option.”

Angela paused, not interrupting as the scientist went off-topic. She took a sip of her coffee, walking over to add a little bit of sugar and cream and mixing it was a small spoon. “Winston,” she said. “It’s going to be great to see Lena again. Have you heard from Wilhelm? Or Torbjörn? Jesse?”

“Ah! Yes,” Winston brought himself back on track. “Wilhelm is with his god-daughter, Brigitte; they’re in Germany right now and going to Eichenwalde,” he paused briefly to pace over to the central table of the lap. Pushing the latest iteration of his shield generator aside, he then reached behind him to pull over a spare folding chair for Angela to sit.  
  
Wilhelm had never wanted to speak of Eichenwalde, it was a sore subject for the Last Crusader and he could only imagine the sorrow Wilhelm felt even thinking of the little town. “They’re going to recover the armor of Balderich von Adler, he told me.”

“Meanwhile, Torbjörn is still in Sweden. He has an even larger family than before, I made arrangements but I don’t doubt he will be here once he’s finished taking care of his family. They’re out in the countryside but I wouldn’t feel right leaving them behind – and I know he might not come if he had to leave them,” Winston continued, stepping aside to simply sit on the floor. “He told me, when I first contacted him about coming back, that he’s in retirement. But, ah, he changed his mind when I told him that Wilhelm was coming.”

“Jesse is… well, I don’t know when he’s coming. I’ll be honest, at first I occasionally did a little sweep to keep trouble off his tail. But… I didn’t want to stalk him, so I let Athena do the sweeping, clean any trails or traces, and keep an eye on him. Last I heard, apparently he robbed a hypertrain that was headed for Houston and, since then, he’s been laying low,” Winston explained, taking a few steps as if he were going to pace around the lab but stopped himself from the bad habit. “I lost track of Genji ages ago, he and Jesse both left so suddenly. I thought they’d be together but… last I checked, I found Genji in Nepal but that was over a few years ago.”

“Genji has been writing to me,” Angela explained as she accepted the offered seat and rested the coffee cup in her lap, folding her fingers together. It was nice to have actual home-brewed coffee for once and not one of the instant mixes, the way the taste lingered reminder her of long nights working hard in her office. “He met one of the Shambali monks and has been finding peace with himself… I’m relieved because what I always knew he wasn’t happy in Blackwatch. He despised his cybernetic body and I could do nothing about it, my hands were tied.”

The doctor paused for a moment, remembering. She had to do a lot of things for Overwatch that she wasn’t proud of. Genji’s almost forced recruitment into Blackwatch always left a lingering regret in her heart. Jack and Gabriel had no right to use the man’s emotions against him like that. But that was the past, she worked hard to remedy her past mistakes and, now, there was only the future to look forward to.

“…I’m sure he’s already heard about the Recall. The last letter I received, he was considering returning to Japan. He wants to make peace with his brother. I don’t doubt that, if he does, he may come back and even bring his brother with him.”

Winston smiled at that. “Well,” he said. “Then, I look forward to seeing Genji again. And I look forward to meeting his brother, too; over a decade is a long time and the Shimada Clan’s power is mostly gone. I don’t doubt that Genji’s brother has changed almost as much as he has.”

The doctor took a long sip of her coffee, “ _Ja_ , certainly. I wish him the best, he’s confided in me over the years and I really hope that things go well for him.” She stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Winston’s shoulder, “You’re doing a good job at this, Winston. Jack would have been proud.”

Winston chuckled nervously at that. It was Jack Morrison that pushed him to be the best that he could be, both in the lab and on the battlefield. The explosion in Zurich shook Overwatch down to its foundations, forced apart a family that found each other, and sent the world into a slow descent into what seemed to be chaos. Winston didn’t want to save the world, he wanted to save Overwatch.

“I suppose he would be,” he hesitantly answered. “You and Jack both helped me through so much; my education, my speech… Not that I’ve had much practice, but still, I’m glad you’re here.”

Angela squeezed his hand as she slowly stood up and drained the rest of the coffee before setting the porcelain mug on the table, “I’m glad, too. I need to go join Markus in Medical, but if you need _anything_ , just give me a call.”

Winston nodded, “I will.” He forgot the doctor’s coffee mug for now, watching Angela leave before returning to his nest of monitors and computer screens. A glance outside his tinted window and he saw the Watchpoint buzzing and filled with life; people from around the world, even if it was only a handful of countries, that came because they _believed_ in Overwatch like he did.

There was still a lot of work to be done and his part was helping with the intelligence gathering and logistics, his role as acting Strike Commander was just freshly started. Winston had to prepare for the world to be against them and he knew the shadow man from Talon’s attack was going to return. Maybe not here, but a gut feeling told him that he’d see that man again and he’d be ready.


	2. Triggernometry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on his way back to Santa Fe, infamous gunslinger Jesse McCree goes to New Vegas, New Mexico after he hears news of the Deadlock Rebels causing trouble. He runs into a group led by a man named Sly, one of his former 'brothers'. Jesse learns what happened to the man that took him away from home many years ago.

Blistering heat and an overbearing sun hovering above left a man wishing for some kind of nuclear winter. Granted, the gunslinger never had much in the way of formal schooling, he knew that the idea of a nuclear winter wasn’t just silly but scientifically impossible. Still, he wished the weather would cool down at least a little bit; delivering justice where it was due worked up a thirst and he’d been on the run and trying to lay low since he got off the hypertrain at Houston. Laying low and keeping out of trouble worked, for a while, until he caught wind of Deadlock stirring up trouble to the north in Las Vegas.

It was just another day for Jesse McCree as he ducked down just in time to avoid a bullet through his head. Left a nice looking hole in his hat, though. As much as he’d always wanted to see Las Vegas, this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind and this second Las Vegas was too far away from the infamous night-life city for his comfort. _Poor Man’s Vegas_ , he remembered that’s what they called it here in New Mexico, back in his Deadlock days; it was a watered down Vegas with a few cheap, run-down hotels and the only casino in town cheated more often than not and very few neon lights, the Crisis hadn’t been kind to most cities but this was, for all intents and purposes, a dead city that refused to die.

“Never thought I’d see you here, McCree,” the hoarse voice called out over another gunshot. The second shot pierced through the barrel that Jesse ducked behind, draining it of precious water that pooled into a dirty puddle around his knees. “After Overwatch cracked down on that heist once upon a time, I figured a _traitor_ would’ve stuck with his own kind.”

“Come on, Sly,” Jesse called back, scrambling to his right as he found better cover behind the barber shop. A hard _tink_ hit the metal sign above him as he passed. “I reckoned old pals like me and you could catch up, get drunk, and talk about the good ol’ days, yeah? What do ya think ol’ Edgar would say if he saw us fightin’ like this?”

The gunslinger leaned over to peek around the corner, his finger itching on Peacekeeper’s trigger. Like lightning, Jesse snapped out of cover and fired a shot that filled the air with a crack of thunder; immediately answered by a chorus of four thunderous shots in answer. Something hid the dusty earth, a cry and whimper.

“Shit! He got Bennie,” a voice he didn’t recognize called out.

 _Well_ , Jesse counted his shots again. _Four shots ‘til I gotta reload._

“Edgar’s _dead_ , Jesse,” Sly shouted in answer, apparently ignoring the plight of one of his underlings. “Pitts and his Rough Riders got ‘im in Phoenix. Wanna know how? Or did ya give up carin’ about the only family you ever had when Overwatch caught you?”

Jesse winced, Deadlock wasn’t any semblance of a family for him. Edgar, otherwise known as ‘Mad Eye’ out here, was the farthest from a father figure that Jesse ever had. Like most folks, Edgar turned to crime to keep himself afloat, the Deadlock Rebelts were just a gang of angry bikers back then, an omnic hunting militia back in the Crisis that got tired of killing omnics and decided to rob trains and banks instead after the government failed to send in their promised checks for their voluntary service. Seemed the path to hell was paved with good intentions, Jesse knew that as a simple fact in this world.

“Funny comin’ from the guy that started shootin’ a brother first, Sly,” Jesse remarked aloud as he ducked down low under the barbershop windows. He could already hear footsteps and the jingle of spurs as Sly and his little gang of Deadlock bikers split off.

Jesse braced himself against the outside of the shop, left arm barely touching the wall as he readied his other arm The fingers of his prosthetic arm started to itch, fingers twitching as he held Peacekeeper at the ready in his right hand.

One step, two steps, peek around the corner and-

_Smack!_

He slammed the spurred butt of his gun against the unfortunate biker’s nose, a yell of pain as the man stumbled back and the gunslinger’s metal hand reached out to grab the man’s thick mane of hair, pulling the man down as Jesse brought an armored kneecap up to break his bloody nose in another place.

The biker flashed his piece as he toppled forward and Jesse was quick to finish with a firm stomp on the hand, filling the instant with the audible crack of bones as fingers twisted at awkward and painful angles. The Deadlock biker’s gun went off, misfiring under a broken finger, as he toppled and rolled around in the dirt and Peacekeeper answered in kind to silence him for good.

Jesse quickly turned the corner and down the alley, keeping the revolver at the ready as his options narrowed. _Three shots._ Served him right for thinking he could reason with Sly, no wondered he always hated the bastard. His steps quickened to a brief run as he crossed a gap between buildings on his left and dashed down to the next building before taking a right, and then a sharp left into another open street.

The gunslinger paused for a moment to consider his options. Sly and his gang must have been looking for something, or someone, considering that they weren’t too happy about seeing Jesse. Hell, considering the bounty, he was surprised they didn’t find him sooner.

The twinkle of sunlight against metal caught the corner of his eye in a window, then he recognized the rifle even from this distance. Military-grade Pulse.

Jesse dashed forward into a roll as a flurry of rapid-fire shots rained down on him from the second-story street corner to his left. Dirt and grit kicked up just a few inches behind him as the gunslinger dashed into a mad run and a final combat roll flourish behind a wagon full of wooden crates.

“That ain’t a way to greet a visitor,” Jesse shouted as he peeked up, managing to fire off two shots towards the shooter before ducking back down as the shooter answered back in a deadly chorus. The rounds pierced through the dry wood without any trouble, throwing wooden shards and dirt up in a cloud that forced Jesse to cover himself with his prosthetic hand.

He dashed out of cover again, ducking just low enough to miss another bullet from one of the surviving Deadlock bikers. Jesse answered in kind with Peacekeeper, dropping the man in the middle of the street as the bullet caught his throat, and left him to choke in a puddle of blood.

Heart racing, Jesse reasoned that he was behind the saloon or the inn. The snug alley that he found himself in was a straight path down along the back of the two-story saloon and into the first-floor kitchen was door and a concrete step. He cautiously stepped forward before a shadow appeared in the alley.

No words, just rapid gun fire as one of the last Deadlock bikers opened fire. Unfortunate for him, Jesse fired first and the man’s shot ricocheted against the wall to the gunslinger’s left and his opponent fell backward and reached a hand to catch the hot sun, in vain, before landing in the filthy dirt of the alley.

“That wasn’t Sly,” Jesse muttered under his breath, the spent casings from Peacekeeper clattering on the ground as they fell and bounced off eachother. _So, Sly’s got himself a pulse rifle. Fancy._

It almost made Jesse wish he had something like that, almost. He liked Peacekeeper well enough, flipping the cylinder open, he reloaded as he kicked the door into the saloon’s kitchen open.

The door slamming open was enough to spook the terrified townsfolk, the chef yelped and one of the waitresses screamed as their patrons huddled together in the corners of the kitchen. Hell, some were even hiding out in the freezer.

“Calm down, everyone,” Jesse reassured, though he could tell it wasn’t working. He already had blood splattered across the breastplate of his body armor from the up-close-and-personal kill across the street down by the barber shop, just a shame he didn’t notice it until now. With his metal hand, he gripped his serape and wiped at the red before realizing he was just smearing it.

Shaking his head in mock defeat, he continued on his way and carefully stepped around anyone curled up in his way. “This’ll be over right quick, just a bit of a rough reunion between old friends.”

“Th-That’s Jesse McCree,” a man hiding in the freezer mumbled.

“Don’t wear the name out,” the gunslinger chuckled as he glanced over his shoulder. “It’ll be over soon, folks,” he added additional reassurance before pointing a finger at the chef. “You. Get these good folks out of here. It’s already turnin’ ugly, I don’t want to hear about anyone in this room gettin’ hurt. Ya hear?”

The chef nodded and Jesse smiled before stepping out into the main room of the saloon.

The gunslinger hopped over the counter, fetching a bottle off it in a swoop of his prosthetic hand and holding it up over his head. “Come on out, Sly! It ain’t too late to have a drink on me,” he yelled out. _No, it was already too late._ He set the bottle on top of a grand piano by the steps, Peacekeeper already at the ready as he took the first few steps up.

“This is only going to end one way, Jesse,” Sly called out from above. The man appeared from behind the railing, aiming the military-grade pulse rifle in Jesse’s direction.

He had been worse for wear over the years, a few new scars that Jesse hadn’t noticed before on top of the nasty burned pink from the failed heist all those years ago. The same leather jacket, though, one sleeve torn off to show his musculature and the ink that he’d gotten over the years - the most notable was the Deadlock Skull and Chains.

A second later and a rocket launched from the rifle hit the piano full force, knocking Jesse back against the railing and sending wooden splinters, metal bits, and glass shards were sent flying all over the saloon.

“And that’s me with your sixty-million bounty.”

Jesse groaned as he tried to move, leaning forward to pick himself up and, instead, rolling down the short set of stairs before landing hard on his back. He coughed as the smoke started to clear. “That’s a shame,” he croaked.

Sly apparently liked that answer, puffing up as a grin crossed his burned face, “The real shame is that I can’t even turn that bounty in, Jesse. But I’ll sleep happy knowin’ that no one is ever gonna turn it in. And I’ll make sure we dig ya in an unmarked grave, just like the insignificant rat you are.”

Jesse eyed the man for a moment, even where he was lying down, he was already aiming before he lifted Peacekeeper up. Sly must have seen what was coming but Jesse rolled out of the way of another gunfire volley and answered with the loud, thunderous crack of Peacekeeper.

He saw the rifle fall down to the bar and the body of Sly slump over the railing. A bloody hole between the eyes. Something ached as the gunslinger picked himself back up again, wincing as he holstered his revolver and felt the crimson damp on his right side. Well, you can’t win all of them without a scratch.

Jesse plucked some bandages off one of the Deadlock bodies and patched himself up. It was minutes after that he found the Deadlock bikes, powerful fuel-guzzling machines that were as iconic to the Deadlock name as they were noisy. The modern outlaw’s horse, in a way, faster than any steed and most civilian hovercars that could dare try to pursue it.

Revving up the engine woke the cycle with a roar of life, Jesse grasping the handles as he gave a twist and put the pedal to the metal before speeding down the road. He left the city behind as the authorities finally came out of hiding to see who killed who first, only to discover that there were five less Deadlock bikers in the world and four unattended bikes.

The touch of wind rushing past Jesse was almost nostalgic, a reminder of younger days, as the motorcycle soared as if it were possessed by a demon. It was faster than hitching a ride and, hell, a lot more fun than hiding on the top of a hypertrain. It’d be a few more days to Sante Fe from here and the gunslinger would finally get to relax and take a breather.


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji reunites a second time with Hanzo, hoping to set his brother on the path of forgiving himself. It does not go entirely as planned. Hanzo realizes it is time for him to learn how to live with his actions after ten long years of mourning and regret.

From atop a hill far from Tokyo, there was a calm serenity. Genji had picked this place, not just because it was discreet and far from prying eyes, but for the beauty that he had learned to admire after so many years of being blinded by pain, anger, and revenge. He was grateful that he had found Zenyatta and that his teacher had showed him a path to be not just at peace with the outside world but to find comfort and closure with his own damaged body.

The grassy hills seemed to roll and shift with the brushes and strokes of the wind, scattering blossoms and pollen down to the fields below. The peak of Mt. Fuji was in the distance, as wondrous as he remembered, and the metropolis of Tokyo was distant and below. He sat, cross-legged, atop an destroyed and abandoned omnic from the Crisis, a relic to the past; he recalled stories of the day that mankind’s weapons and defenses turned against them, the near extinction of mankind had narrowly been avoided.

As tumultuous as the ocean, it seemed the world was on the verge of repeating history. The sudden reactivation of the omnium in Russia, of all things, the growing acts of terrorism and crime, and the strained tensions between humans and omnics across the world, with rare exceptions, was at a near breaking point.

 _How long?_ It was a question he had wondered for a many a year after Zenyatta had guided him to accept his body for what it was, not what he remembered it to be. How long until he was needed again? When last he saw his master, after Genji had decided that it was now his turn to travel the world and lead a positive influence on the lives of others, Zenyatta said that he would know when it was time.

It was vague but Genji felt the time was fast approaching. Hanzo had been in mourning since the night that he was left for dead; despite the pain and years of hatred, Genji could still say he loved his brother, but they were on separate paths. That night in the Hanamura district was the first crossing of paths and Genji, despite his better judgement, decided to arrange this second meeting. He was discreet, wanting no Shimada Clan intervention.

The cyborg shifted his weight, straightening his balance when he heard the approaching footsteps through the grass. Glancing over his shoulder, his visor hid his face and made him seem more omnic than man, nodding lightly to himself before sliding down to the ruined omnic’s large arm that appeared to be a disarmed missile launcher. A small hop and he landed in the waist-high grasses.

“Come,” Genji welcomed his guest, walking up a short slope that overlooked the natural scene that sprawled out before them in rolling hills, curving rivers, distant metropolis towers, and the snow-capped peak of Mt. Fuji.

There was a small blanket and basket waiting for them, spread out over a clear patch of grass. Genji had left his swords by the basket. He had no intention for another fight, not now, he was aware he had dealt enough damage alone by revealing he was still alive.

“I prepared sushi for both of us,” Genji said. “And a small bottle of sake."

As the host of this meeting, the cyborg prepared the first plate and set it in front of his brother as Hanzo took a seat and poured the first little cup of rice wine. His brother seemed distant, silent, and as grim-faced as he remembered. “Thank you, brother, for coming to meet with me.”

Hanzo wasn’t sure what to make of this, his thoughts and feelings were a muddled mess of confusion, frustration, disappointment, and failure. He sat, as invited, hoping that his _dead brother_ would explain his reasons. Accepting the food, his hand went to the sake. His response was quick and harsh, even if the words were a crude attempt at courtesy, “You seem well.”

“And you, as well,” Genji answered as he sat down on the edge of the blanket, opposite to Hanzo and with the basket and his swords between them. After ensuring Hanzo had something to eat and drink, he served himself a small plate.

The elder Shimada nodded lightly, “As well as I can be.” He downed the sake in less than a single swallow, pausing for a moment. “You wanted to talk,” he added before pinching a piece of rolled sushi between his chopsticks and taking the bite.

Genji spoke up, “I did. As I said, last we met, it is time to choose a side. I’m sorry that I did not explain.”

“What side are _you_ on,” Hanzo was quick to ask, briefly skipping politeness and pouring himself more sake. He took another bite of sushi, eager for his brother’s answer.

Genji paused, “Overwatch. I am not here to recruit you, Hanzo, but I’d be glad to have you with me when I go to them. They are good people and we can be a family again. We can be _brothers_ again and put the past behind us.” His hands shifted to rest on his knees, leaning forward slightly as he sat firm and eager to hear his brother agree. The cyborg realized, a little too late, that he came to this meeting biased, hoping for one outcome over the other. It was only natural, he wanted to make peace with his brother, they had both changed.

His brother, however, furrowed his brow at Genji’s words, “You say you are not here to recruit me, yet insist that I go with you.” He took a smaller sip of the sake, setting the delicate cup down as he spoke.

“Our family was broken when I struck you down. I followed my duty, what was _expected_ of me and suffered for it; I sought to preserve your honor, only to find out that I failed to do even that,” Hanzo answered, Genji could see that the storm of emotions was clear on his face. He was conflicted, torn apart, and unsure. “Ever since I believed that I struck you down, to save our family’s honor and your own, I have been in mourning. Eleven years, yet you expect me to follow you after you reveal that I left the Clan, I left the life that our father built for us, for _nothing?”_

Genji felt a stab of hurt at Hanzo’s words, though he knew that these words were directed towards himself and not towards him. He believed he understood his brother’s pain, “I know that my forgiveness cannot-”

“You did nothing to force my hand,” Hanzo snapped an interruption, clenching his fists against his knees. “I did. It was my doing, my choice to follow my duty. I cannot forgive myself for _that_ .” Genji had always been stubborn, “You said it was time for me to forgive myself. If you know so much, then tell me which _side_ do I belong on?”

The cyborg paused, “I cannot decide that for you.”

“Then what is the _point_ of this?” Hanzo let that question linger, his furrowed brow displayed his irritation clearly. He moved, shifting to stand up and leave but stopped before he made any real progress in the brief pause. Genji was already moving to stop him, eager to force him to stay longer and yet wanting to let his older brother make that choice whether to stay or leave, but the cyborg froze before he could reach out to touch him. The archer sighed, “I cannot bear the sight of you. Maybe someday I will, but I did _this_ to you and I know nothing but what our father planned for me as the eldest; you know that.”

Genji almost jumped up to reach out for his brother and _stop_ him, but stopped himself. _No, I can’t make him stay and listen to me._ “I do know, Hanzo,” he answered. Their father was strict on Hanzo and saved all the affection for Genji, it was one of those old traditions and one that left deep, invisible wounds on both of them.

The Shimada Clan had always been traditionalist, stubbornly so, and the culture of the yakuza didn’t dismiss the ideas of personal and family honor easily. For good reason, it kept young recruits in line and enforced discipline among the ranks.

“And I will not stop you, _brother,_ ” Genji continued, slowly standing up as his brother did. “Just know that I will be waiting for you, when you decide you are ready... Gibraltar, Hanzo; I will wait for you in Gibraltar. And even if you never come, you have your freedom to do whatever it is that you wish.”

The wind picked up now, lifting the edges of the blanket that weren’t weighed down by the small plates and basket, Genji weighed an edge down with his foot.

 _Freedom._ An almost unfamiliar concept. Hanzo’s life had been dictated by his elders before he was even born, it was his destiny and duty to lead the Shimada Clan after his father, and it was the _act_ of fratricide that, in his grief, broke that destiny to pieces. “I will consider it,” the short answer was all he could muster, for now.

He had been meaning to leave Tokyo, it was only regret and mourning that kept him here. Now that Hanzo knew that Genji was alive, the theoretical chains that he had forced upon himself were gone even if he did not know where he should be going.

Genji let Hanzo leave, the two sharing brief farewells before Hanzo gradually disappeared behind the tall grasses and returned to where he had come from. The cyborg stayed for a while longer, opening his visor briefly to eat and drink the leftovers.

After his meal, he contemplated their brief, short conversation; his brother would make his own choice and maybe it was best that Genji made this his last effort at intervention. But he knew, in his heart, that he would see Hanzo again. Picking up his few possessions, he left the grassy hilltop and decided that it was now time for him to finally go to Gibraltar.


	4. Hibernation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years ago, in Ecopoint: Antarctica...
> 
> Mei and the rest of the Ecopoint team decide on how to deal with the impending storm.
> 
> Shortly after, in Overwatch's Zurich HQ, Strike Commander Jack Morrison sends Lieutenant Wilhelm Reinhardt and a team to rescue the trapped scientists in a race against time...

The dim overhead light lit up the small table littered with papers and notes; using the holographic display was too risky at this point. To conserve power, the team had to shut down all non-vital systems and that also meant turning down the heat to the bare safety minimum. Their power reserves, rations, and supplies were low. They even resorted to using paper and pencil over their computers.

“If Opara and I are right about this,” Torres said has his hand anxiously shivered, a tremble that could be accounted for the chill that was sliding into their main dining hall. Mei-Ling noticed that his Spanish accent came out the most in stressful situations, something that happened only a few times but ever since the missed supply drop, she wasn’t the only one to notice.“Temporary cryostasis for two weeks will outlast the storm.”

MacReady chimed in, “And if the storm’s still here?” She was one of the two Americans on the Ecopoint team, along with Adams. Out of the whole team, she was the least enthusiastic about cryostasis and hadn’t enjoyed the Antarctica deployment. It was dull, yes, but Mei found the scientific studies and data collecting very exciting.

“The system will compensate for the storm,” Opara explained, the dark-skinned man had been the optimistic beacon for the whole team, alongside Mei, and kept them focused on the task at hand: survival. “Two weeks is our estimate. Three at the most.”

“Next supply drop is in another month, that gives us four weeks. And the supplies we have left,” the older Arrhenius contributed, pulling her blanket closer around her small shoulders. She was the other climatologist and, in many ways, Mei-Ling’s mentor. “If we stretch out as far as possible, we have two weeks… If we’re lucky.”

Adams nodded, rubbing his hands together to try and keep warm. The other American, though while he was the designated tiebreaker in any team decisions, there was no defined leadership on the team. It was a role that Adams filled in naturally, he had mentioned a few times that he had led a few squads in the Crisis. ”No time to lose then. Everyone, prep up for cryosleep.”

After that, the meeting was adjourned and, for a brief time, everyone split off to make their own preparations. After changing into casual sleepwear, Mei-Ling wandered off into the computer bay in the warmer section of the base, eager to compile a brief video diary entry before the cryosleep began. Her old Summer Games sweatshirt kept her warm enough, even with the small chill in the air as the base started to shift into reserve power.

Mei’s diary started off as most due. The date, time, and a summary of everything that had happened since she woke up. She had at least two weeks of sleep to do, after all, and she was going to miss out on watching the recorded data.

“Come on, Mei. You’re holding up nap time,” Adams chimed in off-screen of the video diary. The interruption, as playful as it was, still had a tone of urgency.

Mei chuckled, taking a quick sip of her tea. “Coming, coming,” she yelled off camera before turning back to the viewer. “I have to go now, but I’ll be back after the storm is over! I can’t wait to see all the new data, it’s going to be amazing! Bye-bye,” she grinned before downing the rest of her tea and hopping off-screen. The scientist shut off the recording after that, unnecessary use of power in this time was extremely wasteful but she liked keeping both video and written diaries to keep track of her daily activities, plus it was a fun little hobby.

Everyone was already set to go into temporary cryostasis when Mei bounced into the room. After she stepped in, the process started as each capsule closed shut and sealed itself. The storm was only to last a week, two weeks at the most, and to reserve power and limited resources after missing the supply drop, temporary cryostasis was a last resort.

However, the storm was a more fearsome beast than the Ecopoint team had anticipated. The automated systems sent out a distress signal after the perimeter sensors had detected severe winds and were, immediately, destroyed.

The Ecopoint’s basic AI communicated to Overwatch Headquarters; to brace for the impact of the storm, the team had gone into temporary cryostasis. However, the severity of this unexpected storm and the missed supply drop meant they’d have only a few weeks to a month’s worth of supplies left and that’s only after extreme rationing. Depending on how much damage the base was going to sustain, they’d have no power and no hope of lasting long enough to reach the next supply drop or the scheduled pick-up.

An emergency rescue, the Ecopoint’s sent information suggested, with a time window of only a few hours, was the only option left.

Jack Morrison furrowed his brow as the transmission came in through mission control. The synthesized Ecopoint AI had managed to break through the interference, just barely, and the status of the Antarctica Watchpoint was dire. He rested his chin in his right hand and his left gripped the armrest of his chair.

“Commander,” Winston reported as he turned in his large chair, clearing the flashing warning of his screen. The lack of word from the Ecopoint brought concerns, especially after the missed supply drop, but now the stakes were much higher. “We have to send a team  _ now _ if we want to make it in time.”

The Strike Commander nodded, rising out of his chair and announcing for all to hear. “Prepare a rescue team. I want Lieutenant Reinhardt leading the team, have emergency medical staff on standby. I want that hopper as *light* as possible, maybe we can buy some time.”

Within the hour, it was a mad scramble to fuel the hopper and prep the rescue team. The Ecopoint team was already in cryosleep, they had to be carefully thawed and too quickly could possibly send them into a state of shock. Each pod had to be carefully detached and, hopefully, they’d be able to be carefully thawed once they returned to the Zurich HQ.

Wilhelm counted himself lucky when they left the hangar ahead of schedule. He had forsaken the armor this time but his bulky cold-weather gear was no less imposing on his large frame. “We’ll get them all home safe,” he reassured Winston shortly before take-off, his voice almost drowned out over the hustle and bustle of the hangar.

The team was small, four people total including the pilot. The hoppers were lightweight VTOL aircrafts that could hold up to ten people, the rescue team refrained from a fully loaded hopper to accomodate for the extra weight of six cryostasis pods. At full speed, they would arrive to the Ecopoint in just a few hours, with at least an hour to load up the hopper with the cryopods and return home with the storm close behind them.

The Antarctica storm, however, was a different beast entirely from what they could have imagined. It was a massive anomaly that was visible on the horizon as they approached. Looming over the icy landscape like a monstrous behemoth that roared and screamed with hatred.

“Lieutenant,” the omnic pilot, Abe, called as the hopper drew closer. The wind whipped the lightweight craft mercilessly, “The wind’s too strong. This is as close as I can get-”

“No,” Wilhelm interrupted. “We need to get closer! They’re depending on us, they don’t know how big the storm is - they’ll die without us!” The rest of the team was on edge, the flight had been an urgent ordeal. It was act  _ now _ or sacrifice six lives to an icy, cold death in their sleep.

The hopper briefly circled along the borders of the storm. “Lieutenant, even if we landed here, it would be a few hours walk... And that’s without the storm. If I managed to land us in there, we wouldn’t be able to get out. I’m a good pilot, sir, but I’m not a miracle worker.”

Wilhelm clenched his fists, “We have to  _ try _ -”

Jack was quick to intervene, he had stayed in mission control through the entire flight with constant updates on the condition of the storm. A feeling in his gut had told him, from the start, that this would be a difficult call to make. Mei-Ling Zhou and the entire Ecopoint Team were some of their best scientists and they would all be sorely missed.

“Abe is right,” Winston confirmed, looking over the screens of his console. “The storm is too close… We’re too late…”

“Lieutenant,” Jack stated firmly. His voice was stern and resolute, “Come back to base. Abandon the mission.”

_ “But Commander-” _

“That’s an  _ order _ , Lieutenant.” Jack stated firmly. A hushed, dead silence fell over the control room for a few moments. A stifled cry broke the thick silence, those that didn’t have to excuse themselves gently placed hands over their hearts in respect to the lives lost.

Wilhelm answered back over the communications with a resigned, “Understood, Commander.”

“Eagle-3 returning to base,” the omnic pilot finally announced over the radio, turning the hopper away from the storm and beginning the trip back home.

A somber mood fell over the control room afterwards as Jack settled back in his chair, running a hand through his short, blonde hair and weighing the options after the fact.  _ There was no way to save them _ , he reassured himself.  _ It was withdraw or risk losing more lives. _

If he hadn’t intervened, he knew that Wilhelm would have sacrificed himself in the attempt to save them. In that, Jack was certain and relieved that he wasn’t going to lose more people today. He wasn’t unfamiliar with loss of life; back in the War, it was a daily occurence, and it seemed as if they were on the losing side no matter where they went. It was always difficult, even back then, but he had to keep a strong face for the men and women under his command. He  _ had _ to, there was no room for him to falter, they all depended on him.

A few hours later, the hopper had returned with the rescue team. Tears were shared and condolences given amongst the team. Jack retreated to his office, he’d have to write a letter to each Ecopoint member’s family… It was the least he could do and, to himself, he swore that he’d write each family personally. Back in the War, most were lucky to even hear what happened to their loved ones fighting. More often than not most soldiers were declared MIA and assumed KIA after the War finally ended.

A knock came to his door and Jack was snapped back to the real world, stopping in the middle of his second-to-last letter. He saved Mei-Ling’s letter last, trying to give himself time to put the scientist’s impact on Overwatch into words.

Jack could see the large silhouette, knowing immediately who it was. “Come in, Winston,” he beckoned the scientist inside as he opened the door. It was a tight fit, but the gorilla was able to squeeze through. “What can I do for you?”

“Well… Commander, about the Ecopoint… We did all we could, right? I knew Mei, I worked with her and with all of them,” Winston paused for a moment as he approached the desk. “They’re going to die in their sleep and… We’re helpless to do anything.” The scientist fidgeted with his large hands. 

Winston had only been with Overwatch for two years, ever since his makeshift rocket had landed in Spain. He was eager to learn and, after his entrance exams into Overwatch, was pursuing an education in Astronomy and Theoretical Physics. The Science and Medical departments had unofficially ‘adopted’ him, Angela Ziegler and Mei-Ling Zhou were two of his tutors when they could spare the time.

Jack paused for a few seconds, “Winston.” He weighed his words carefully and sighed, “Death’s never easy. Our field agents put their lives on the line to protect those who can’t protect themselves, it’s been our job since the War.” He set his pen down, pushing the letters aside, “I know it isn’t easy and it’s never going to be… But yes, we did everything we could. It’s not anyone’s fault, it was an accident that went wrong."

“They may be gone from this world,” Jack added with a small nod. “But they’ll always be in our hearts. Their memories will live on through us, in our actions to make the future they believed in and to prevent something like this from happening again.”

Winston seemed to take the words to heart, nodding slowly for a few seconds. “I understand, Commander… Thank you, I’ll remember that,” the poor scientist was looked drained, tired from the ordeal. It wasn’t uncommon for agents to be in danger but, unlike today, Overwatch was able to intervene… This time, however, their hands were tied and they couldn’t act quickly enough.

“Just let me know if you need anything else, Winston,” Jack reassured with a small smile. “I’m here if you need someone to talk to, along with Doctor Ziegler and everyone else."

“Thank you, Commander,” Winston did something akin to a bow. “I, uh.. I’ll let you know.” He excused himself quickly and disappeared as he turned down the hallway and out of sight.

With the press of a button, Jack remotely closed the door to his office. Leaning forward, he rested his head in his hands and let out a long sigh. “It never gets easier,” he muttered to himself with a shake of his head. He pulled the papers back over and grabbed his pen. No matter how hard it got, he was going to finish these letters to the nearest of kin.


	5. Tickets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena and Emily have their tickets to leave London behind and move to Watchpoint: Gibraltar. However, there's one more thing that Lena has to do before they leave London behind...

Emily was doing everything she could to keep up but Lena, in all her excitement, was blinking too fast around the apartment for her eyes to keep track of her. Forward, back, side-to-side and, as far as the poor young woman could tell, even sideways and upside down. The last month had been spent preparing for this big move, they had to uproot themselves and tell almost no one what they were up to; but she had a feeling that everyone knew what kind of person Lena was. When word of the Recall got out to the public, both of their families were calling in to see if Lena would actually break UN laws to relive her glory days.

They had both visited Winston on occasion over the last few years, visiting when they could on Christmas and holidays to keep the poor scientist from being too lonely; Lena had told her that after the Petras Act, Winston was, for all intents and purposes, forgotten and left on his own along with almost the entire base itself. It was a sad story but Emily quickly discovered that Winston still kept in touch with almost everyone, Lena included, from before the investigations. He kept his distance, it seemed, keeping tabs on everyone and checking in every once in a while without interfering; he never wanted to drag them away from their new lives and families but circumstances had changed drastically since the attack.

_Are you actually going to leave with Lena to join Overwatch?_  
  
It was a question that had been repeated more times than Emily could count, it was a miracle that someone hadn’t made it public; maybe that was a sign within itself of how much people wanted Overwatch back.

“Lena,” Emily reached out to touch the speedster’s shoulder where she had been for _just a few seconds_ before the woman disappeared again. “Please!” She winced at the irritated strain in her voice, but it got her girlfriend’s attention.  
Lena stopped, holding a stack of clothes, as if she were a deer in headlights. The surprise was gone in almost an instant, “I’m sorry! I got carried away again, didn’t I?” She paused for a second, glancing around, “Well. We sure cleaned up fast, didn’t we? Right, Emily?”

“Lena,” Emily chuckled and smiled at Lena’s almost boundless energy. “That was almost all you. I’m all packed up, though, and I got the tickets from Winston,” she said as she waved the lit-up cellphone.  _ A ticket for two to Gibraltar. _ “How about you?”

The speedster admired her handiwork, cradling the bundle of clothes under her arm. The time they spent preparing for their move had, actually, mostly been trying to sell and give everything away that they couldn’t take with them. At first, Emily was uneasy at the thought until Winston reassured them both that there was an apartment on-site that resembled the ones in London. Their apartment had been nearly stripped bare, except for the basic essentials that Emily had when she originally moved in here.

“Almost all done. Just gotta pack this away,” she answered, already occupied with finishing the task, walking past Emily and into the bedroom. The loud  _ zzzzzip  _ of a suitcase soon followed before Lena repearred in the doorway with suitcase in hand. “Now we’re set!”

They exchanged smiles as Emily skipped forward to lean and plant a kiss on Lena’s forehead. She caught her girlfriend’s hands, squeezing tenderly as they shared a kiss. While Lena moving in was a big change for them both, leaving London to live on the Watchpoint in Gibraltar was a bigger step. It was hard enough in London, between Lena’s vigilante antics and the difficulties of dealing with the chronal disassociation, it was a unique and otherwise unknown condition. The chronal anchors that held Lena in this timeline were improved, over time, by Winston; they had one for the apartment, another built into a backpack for Lena’s new civilian life, and the harness that she used to wear out on the field with each design being practically weightless.

“Slow down a little, Lena,” Emily gave Lena a small nudge. “You know I can hardly keep up with you as it is.” She sighed softly, relaxing finally after nearly a month of hectic, frenzied panic to take care of all the loose ends. They still had to make it to their flight, sure, but now their belongings had been consolidated into two suitcases; anything sentimental was mailed to Winston ahead of time.

“Of course, love,” Lena quipped with a small giggle as they walked out of the apartment together and into a new life.

 

The roar of the passing train rushed past, Emily stopping to catch her breath after running so hard. Why was Lena dragging her feet? “Come on, Lena!” She turned on her heels, turning back far enough to pull Lena along back towards the rails. “We have to catch this next train or we’ll be late for our flight. What’s the  _ matter _ with you?”

“Sorry, Emily,” Lena picked her feet up, following Emily’s rushed pace. “Just thinking about something.” The next train to the airport was due soon, from there it’d be a one-way flight to Gibraltar. Winston was waiting for them and, for Emily, it seemed like she had more urgency in her step than Lena for once!

The vague answer was enough to catch Emily’s attention, confused. “Something? What are you thinking about, Lena?”

“Just… Just about everything,” Lena offered a warm smile, dropping her suitcase to grab Emily’s hand. “Maybe I’d be a different person without Overwatch but,” she considered her next words carefully. “I can’t imagine a world without you.”

Emily glanced at the overhead clock, not much time until their last train. “Lena, love, we don’t have the time to-”

The speedster laughed at that, much to her partner’s dismay. A soft and warm laugh and the infamous grin that she gave when she was up to something. In fact, she was. “I have all the time in the world, Emily. And I’d love to spend it with you,” she pulled out the little box that held the ring. “Will you-”

The sound of the oncoming train drowned out the rest of the question as the hypertrain’s brakes screeched and screamed to a halt. But as the sound quieted, Emily had only one word on her mind.

**_"Yes!"_ **


End file.
